


Keeping You Warm

by Hot_elf



Series: Dragon Age - series 7 (Megan Cousland / Revon Hawke / Alec Trevelyan) [6]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crack AU where Thorin Oakenshield ends up in Thedas after the Battle of the Five Armies and finds new hope in Sigrun's loving arms. Because let's face it, there are just not enough women in Middle-earth...<br/>Art by the amazing yanagoya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

He was ready to die, as ready as a man ever got. The Battle of the Five Armies was fought and won, the goblins defeated. Thorin had said his thanks and farewells to his allies and companions, and now he was looking forward to joining his forefathers in the halls of waiting. His many wounds were giving him less pain than he'd expected, but he could feel the cold spreading through his limbs and knew his life was at an end.

But when the tent-flap had closed behind the last of his visitors, Gandalf turned to face him, a sly smile on his lips. "Thorin Oakenshield. There is more we need to talk of."

"What is it, wizard?" He smiled sleepily. "I know well that I must leave this world now."

"Indeed you must." Gandalf sat down and lit his pipe. "But maybe not in the way you think you will. You are still in the prime of your life, Thorin, and there is a lot of good you can do. Not here, for I cannot heal your wounds nor can I prolong your time on Middle-earth. But I shall send you to another place, where you are needed. You won't be King Under the Mountain there, just Thorin, but I believe you can still be a force for good."

He shook his head in confusion. "Another place? What do you mean, old man?"

But Gandalf just smiled and raised his staff. "Close your eyes."

There was a flash of light and he lost consciousness. When he next woke, he was no longer in his tent, but on a grassy hillside, the summer sun shining brightly down upon him.

A tall blond man with a scruffy beard was bending over him with a worried frown on his face. "This looks bad, Commander. I need to heal him straight away, or he won't survive the journey back to the Keep."

"What are you waiting for, then, Anders? Go ahead." A woman's voice, clear and light.

Thorin's shirt was pushed up and he felt warm, dry hands on his skin. Then a blissfully cool wave washed over him and the coldness in his hands and feet receded. He wasn't prepared for the sudden onslaught of pain, though, and he nearly cried out, biting down hard on his lip.

"Shhhh." The man held him down and took a deep breath, then touched him again. This time the cool wave took away most of the pain. His head felt a lot clearer and he carefully tried to sit up.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Another man, this one dark-haired and dressed like a ranger, in well-worn leathers.

"Have you gone blind, Nate? A dwarf, I'd say." Another female voice, this one belonging to a tiny, dark-haired woman with a tattooed face and a bright smile. "And as fine a specimen as I have ever seen, I may add."

"Well, you're the expert on that, Sigrun." The man called Nate lowered his bow and smiled at him. "How are you feeling, stranger? Well enough to talk?"

Thorin nodded. The wizard - for such the young blond man had to be - helped him to sit up straight and he looked around for a moment, trying to get his bearings. He seemed to have landed smack in the middle of the strangers' camp. There was a small fire, with a skinned rabbit sizzling on a spit above it, and a number of bedrolls and packs scattered around him. Judging from the position of the sun, it had to be early morning. It had been early afternoon when Gandalf had sent him off. _Curious_.

He took a grateful sip from the water skin the wizard held up to his lips.

"Careful." The man's voice was full of laughter, and there were tiny wrinkles around his eyes. "You were badly hurt. I'm Anders, by the way."

"You're a wizard." His own voice sounded unfamiliar to him.

"I prefer _mage_ , but essentially you're right." Anders grinned happily. "I've healed most of your wounds, but I need to have another go once we're back to the Keep and I have rested. That was a close call, my friend."

"You must be very powerful. Even though you have no beard." Thorin closed his eyes and ran his hands experimentally over his stomach. The wounds had all but disappeared. Only a few bruises and scratches still bore witness to the spears that had nearly torn him apart.

Anders laughed out loud. "Not so very powerful, no. But I'm okay. And I believe you have enough of a beard for the both of us. Commander!" He turned to face a slim woman who had been cleaning her daggers on the other side of the fire. "I think he's well enough to tell you where he came from now."

"Thank you, Anders." The woman got up and walked over to them.

She was human, very pretty with reddish blond hair and blue-green eyes. She too was wearing what looked to be hunting leathers. Thorin wrinkled his nose in confusion. A shield-maiden, like the Rohirrim were rumoured to have? A fighter in any case - the way she handled her daggers left no doubt that she knew how to use them.

Now she knelt down in front of him and looked at him searchingly. "Who are you, stranger? And why did you suddenly turn up in our camp?"

He sighed. "I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under-" He broke off, remembering Gandalf's parting words. "I am Thorin. A wizard sent me here."

"A wizard?" The woman raised an expressive eyebrow. "Of course. A wizard did it." She sighed. "I am Megan Cousland, Commander of the Grey and Arlessa of Amaranthine. Whoever you are, we will take you to the Keep with us. You need further healing."

Thorin nodded. "I will come in peace and follow your lead. You have my word of honour."

The tiny woman - Sigrun - rolled her eyes. "Oh my. You're a noble, aren't you? All honourable and haughty. Ah well. You should get along great with Nate and the Commander."

"Shut up, Sigrun." The man called Nate boxed her lightly on the upper arm. "We're all Wardens here. And who knows, maybe Thorin here will join us. He doesn't seem to have another place where he needs to be right now."

 

* * *

They gathered their belongings and set off toward Vigil's Keep. Sigrun eyed the stranger from the side. She hadn't been kidding when she had pronounced him to be one of the finest men of her kind she'd ever seen. He was tall for a dwarf, and powerfully built. _An axe-fighter, if I'm not mistaken_. His hair and beard were long, dark and silky, with a few strands of grey that only served to make him look more interesting. His eyes were a bright blue, clear and expressive under dark brows.

He had no armour or weapons and was wearing only leather leggings and a torn shirt. Through the gaps in the fabric she could make out glimpses of tattoos on his strong forearms and dark curls covering his chest. _Very fine indeed_. It had been a long time since she had thought of any man or dwarf in those terms. Oghren's drunken advances had never appealed to her, and most of the human men in the Keep kept their attention firmly focussed on the Commander. Well, that was hardly surprising. Megan was lovely, and Sigrun was well aware that her own charms couldn't compete.

Anyway, she had said goodbye to all this romantic foolishness when she'd joined the Legion of the Dead. Besides, this Thorin might be stunningly handsome, but he also seemed a little stern for her taste, and confident to the point of arrogance. What had he said, something about being "king under somewhere"? She shook her head. Bhelen Aeducan was king in Orzammar, and there were no other dwarven kingdoms she was aware of.

Fortunately, they had been on their way back from their patrol of the Deep Roads when he turned up, and not even a full day's march from Vigil's Keep. They arrived at the fortress in the afternoon, just in time for a scrumptious meal in the large, airy kitchen. Thorin joined them at the table, tucking in with as good an appetite as any of them. Which was impressive, considering that they were all Wardens.

After the meal, Nathaniel and Anders took him off to the communal baths. Sigrun couldn't quite suppress a gasp when she saw him emerge from the steaming bath chamber, his skin well-scrubbed and rosy, wearing only a towel around his hips. A pity he had to get dressed, really.

 

* * *

Thorin kept his eyes open while he was led around the keep. Despite himself, he was impressed. The massive walls looked to be dwarven stonework, built from good, solid granite. Most of the fortress was ancient, yet the room he was shown to was surprisingly comfortable, with a large four poster bed, a fire burning merrily in the hearth and a woolly rug on the stone floor.

Anders followed him into the room and bid him lay down on the bed. "One last round of healing, then you should rest a little. You can join us later in the Great Hall. Do you think you can find your way there by yourself?"

Thorin nodded his assent, while the wizard - _no, mage_ \- performed another healing on him. This time, the last vestiges of pain disappeared. The remaining bruises were almost too faint to make out. He shook his head in wonder.

Anders smiled. "There. You're as good as new. See you later. There'll be ale and music, I promise."

The mage left and Thorin lay back on the bed, staring at the canopy. The strangers had been incredibly kind and generous to him so far. Here he was, clean, hale and well-fed, with an evening of song and cheer to look forward to. It seemed like a dream. Why had Gandalf sent him here? Why him? With a pang, he remembered Fili and Kili, his nephews, slain on the battlefield while trying to protect him with their shields. They had been young and merry. They should have lived, not him. But who could understand the affairs of wizards?

Thorin rested for a while, content to have some time to think and recover. When he decided that enough time had passed, he rose and got dressed.

Nathaniel had handed him a shirt and leather pants from a large chest. "Tomorrow we will see if we have any armour that fits you. And you'll need a weapon too."

Thorin made his way down the stairs, following the noise of laughter and music until he reached the Great Hall. All his new acquaintances were assembled around the large fireplace, and there were some others he hadn't met yet. Another dwarf, he noticed, with fiery red hair and already well into his cups. And a tall blond woman with pointed ears. _An elf!_

Anders spotted him and waved him over to their table, putting a large tankard of ale into his hand. "Thorin! Come here. We're trying to persuade Velanna here to play the harp for us, but she refuses. A pity, really."

"I can play." He almost bit his lip, when he realized that he had said it aloud, but it was too late.

With a huge grin, Anders handed him the instrument. It was a tad unfamiliar, the strings tuned differently than he was used to, but with a little tweaking it soon responded to his hands. The others listened attentively, their faces flushed from the ale and the warmth of the fire.

"Play us a song." That was Sigrun, the dwarven woman. "A tune from home. Where you come from."

He hesitated, but then his fingers found the strings and he launched into a merry drinking song. By the time he was finished, most of them had joined in the chorus.

Nathaniel gave him a friendly slap on the back. "That was a good song. And you have a fine voice, my friend. You should be a bard."

The others chimed in, congratulating him on his singing and demanding more, all except for Sigrun who kept to the back, watching him all the time with those beautiful, bright blue eyes. He wondered why her face was so heavily tattooed. It wasn't unattractive, far from that, but it was unlike any pattern he had ever seen. She had a lovely body, too, trim and taut, with wide hips and...

Thorin checked himself, surprised at his own thoughts. The last time he had felt such a rush of interest when looking at a woman had been ages ago, back before the Lonely Mountain fell. He still remembered her, the pretty maiden his father had wanted him to wed. She'd been nothing like Sigrun, of course. Since then, he had found the occasional wench willing to warm his bed, but none of them had ever touched his heart. There had always been other things on his mind, important things, great deeds to be done, vengeance to be sought. Little time for pleasure, no time at all for love.

As if she had heard his thoughts, Sigrun raised her head and met his gaze. Thorin swallowed hard. Those cool blue eyes carried enough heat to light a fire deep in his groin. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get rid of all the others, to have her to himself, up in his room with the large, comfortable bed. A small smile played around her lips and he blushed, wondering how much of this had shown on his face. When he raised his voice again, he intoned an old love song he had learned in the Blue Mountains.

"My love is so fair, the loveliest rose,  
She stole my heart from right under my nose  
Far softer than silk, far sweeter than honey,  
I would not part with her for land or for money..."

The Wardens listened in rapt attention to the ballad. Nathaniel's arm had found its way around Megan's shoulders and she whispered something in his ear, her hand drawing tiny circles on his leather-clad thigh. Thorin kept his gaze on Sigrun, though. Was that a hint of a blush on her face? He took a deep breath as the last verse started.

"All through the night we made love in the field  
Our passionate kisses by darkness concealed.  
I'm hers now forever, my heart bound in chains  
yet such a sweet bondage, I'll never complain."

When the song ended, the Commander jumped to her feet with a grin, reaching out to take Nathaniel's hand. "That was lovely, Thorin. Quite... inspiring. I think we will retire now."

She left the room, her hips swinging seductively and Nathaniel followed her, a sly smile on his face. _So that's the way it is._ Thorin took a deep swig of ale. It seemed that in this world no one cared much for betrothals or promises. It seemed indeed a merrier place than the one he had left behind.

Slowly he rose as well, putting aside the harp and stretching to work the kinks out of his back. "I think I'll go back to my room as well. Thank you all for your kind welcome."

He gave a small nod in Sigrun's direction, and this time there was no mistaking the smile on her face. Thorin set out for his room, but his heart beat faster. He definitely wouldn't lock his door tonight.

 

* * *

Sigrun watched him go, enjoying the tingling feeling in her stomach _. Maker, that voice!_ So deep and silky, warm and full, yet rough at the edges. It made her shiver, made her press her thighs together to contain the heat blossoming between them. And the way he'd looked at her just then... He wanted her. And he was used to getting what he wanted, she could tell. But was she ready to give it to him?

She rose with a sigh, suppressing a shudder when her shirt brushed against her hard nipples. _Who are you kidding, salroka_? She hadn't been so worked-up in a very long time, and he hadn't done more than look at her. Why shouldn't she join him in his room? True, he was a stranger, but she didn't doubt he was as honourable as they got. Probably a lot more than she was. A grin spread over her face as she imagined him in Dust Town, among her old gang. They'd fleece him within moments and probably leave him naked on the Shaperate's doorsteps.

A few steps took her right outside his door. The tingling in her stomach intensified and she took a deep breath. _Time to take the leap._ She raised her chin in determination and pushed down the handle.

Thorin was leaning against the mantelpiece, staring into the flames. He was shirtless again, and Sigrun almost moaned aloud at the sheer sight of him. Maker, those arms! And the wide expanse of his chest, covered in fine black curls, his trim, taut stomach, the fine trail of hair leading deeper, disappearing into the waistline of his pants... Closing the door behind her, she leant back against the rough wood, devouring him with her eyes.

He looked up and a small smile spread over his face. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

He straightened up to his full height and came toward her, his eyes taking in her whole body, making her blush self-consciously.

"Neither was I, to be honest." Her voice was a little shaky.

Thorin stopped right in front of her, trailing a calloused finger down her cheek and jaw, taking hold of her chin and raising her mouth to his.

"I'm glad you did." It was a mere whisper before his lips brushed against hers.

Sigrun closed her eyes and gave herself up to the feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue parting her lips, his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him, so close she could feel how affected he already was by her touch. She moaned into his mouth, her arms snaking around his neck, drawing him in deeper, drowning in his kiss. Again and again he kissed her, pausing only briefly for breath, his hands wandering up her back, under her tunic, caressing her soft skin with feather light touches.

When he finally let go, his eyes were dark with desire. "Are you sure?"

Thorin was so tense with expectation that she wondered briefly if he would be able to stop if she said no. But then she didn't want to. All she wanted was for him to continue touching her.

"I'm sure. Please don't stop." She put a trembling finger to his lips and he caught it, sucking hard on it, his eyes gleaming in the firelight.

His strong hands closed firmly around her waist, and then he was picking her up, and taking her over to the bed in two long, sure strides. He put her down on the sheets with a low growl, stepping back to unlace his pants, groaning with relief when they came off. She had felt his hardness against her belly, but her eyes widened when she saw him exposed, so eager for her, so ready to take her.

Sigrun reached for the hem of her tunic and slowly pulled it up. His eyes were so hot she could almost feel them on her skin, alighting on each exposed patch with a furious greed. When the garment came off and her hands moved down to the laces of her pants, he was done with watching. Suddenly he was on top of her, his mouth hot against her breasts, latching onto a nipple with abandonment, while his hands made short work of the laces, pushing the fabric down, lingering lovingly on her full hips.

She almost forgot how to breathe when one of his hands found its way between her thighs, tearing off her smalls, brushing against her heated core with a gentle, yet assured touch.

"Oh Maker, more." Sigrun pushed herself against his hand, and he opened her up, sliding a long, deft finger deep inside her, making her keen with delight.

She was wet for him, wet and ready to beg, and she wondered how much longer he could keep this up. Her nimble fingers danced between them, taking hold of his length, gripping him firmly. He gasped at this, thrusting involuntarily into her hand before taking hold of her wrist and pushing her down into the sheets, spreading her legs wide.

"Please." She wanted him so badly, wanted him inside her, now.

Thorin was careful at first, letting her guide him where she wanted him, propped up above her on those muscular arms to keep his weight off her. But as soon as he had slid all the way home, his head flew back, his face scrunched up in intense concentration. For a few breaths, he held still, and she was thankful for the chance to get used to his size. She almost didn't want him to move, wanted to enjoy the amazing feeling of fullness a little longer, yet when he finally pulled back, she met his thrusts eagerly.

Sigrun kept her eyes wide open, unable to get enough of the sight of him moving on top of her, firm muscles playing under smooth skin, the long locks of his hair tickling against her breasts. His movements were so graceful, so controlled. She dug her heels deep into his lower back, arching against him, revelling in his long, sure strokes. And yet she wanted to break that control, she wanted him to give in to the rush she could feel building inside him.

"Thorin." She touched his cheek and he stopped moving, a question in his eyes. "Wait."

She pushed him back a little further, then wriggled gracefully around until she had her back to him and pushed herself up on her knees, holding on to the headboard for balance. His hands were on her hips again before she knew it and he was pushing inside her from behind, moaning deep in his throat. His thrusts were sharper and jerkier now, no longer as smooth and restrained. She could feel his grip tighten on her, feel his large hands grabbing her buttocks and squeezing them hard. He was close now, she was sure of it, and so was she.

He stopped, pulling her up into his arms so her body was pressed tightly against his, while his fingers reached between her legs, finding the right spot with unerring certitude. She came with a single hoarse shout, shuddering against him. He let go of her again and finished with a few brief strokes, deep inside her. Slowly she slid downwards until she lay face down on the bed, shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"Give me a moment," she panted. "I don't think I can get up just yet."

"Then don't." He flipped her over easily and pulled her close to his chest, humming appreciatively when she wove her fingers into the dark curls there. "Stay with me for a while. The night is warmer when you're not alone."

"Very true." She yawned contentedly and snuggled up against him.

Together they drifted off to sleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Thorin woke slowly, becoming conscious of his surroundings piece by piece. A soft bed. A faint ray of sunlight through a glass-paned window. Unfamiliar smells and background noises. A warm body in his arms. He shook his head when the events of the past day filtered back to him through the daze of waking up. Gandalf's parting words, all the strangeness that had followed it. The good kind of strangeness, though, full of warmth and merriment and laughter. And her.

He looked down at Sigrun's sleeping face with a hint of apprehension. Would she regret what had happened last night when she woke up? She looked sweet and peaceful, relaxed and happy. Just then she wiggled in her sleep and ground her hips against him. He gasped. _At least one part of me that's fully awake..._ She moved again and he couldn't resist.

Curling his body around her, he cupped one firm, perky breast in his hand and gently brushed his calloused thumb over a nipple. Her smile widened, a cute dimple appearing on her cheek, and she moved unconsciously into his touch. Encouraged by her body's reaction, he repeated the caress, then again, with more insistence. A shiver went through her body. Her nipples were hard as pebbles under his touch and he pressed himself against the small of her back, eager for more friction.

His hand trailed slowly down her stomach, worshipping every inch of skin on the way. He hid a smile at the small, impatient noises she made, still only half awake. Then his fingers reached the juncture of her thighs and she opened up to him willingly. _So hot, so sweet_. There was none of the urgency that had possessed them both last night and he took his time caressing her, learning what pleased her most, soft and careful, until she seemed to melt into his touch, eager for more.

Gently, he lifted her upper leg a little and slid deep inside her from the back, all the way home in a single, controlled stroke. They both sighed with pleasure and her eyes finally opened.

"Thorin." Somehow she managed to twist her head enough for a long, lingering kiss. "Good morning."

His hand rested firmly on her stomach, holding her close to him, and they stayed like this for a long time, only occasionally rocking against each other. The feeling of closeness, of shared warmth, was almost overwhelming. Thorin closed his eyes, focussing on nothing but the feel of her skin under his hand, the scent of her hair, the taste of her on his lips. It was a perfect moment, and he briefly wondered whether this was paradise after all, whether he had died and gone to a happier place.

When he finally started moving, slow, shallow thrusts at first, it was almost with regret. He wanted to make this last, spin it out a little longer, but she was hot and tight and before he knew it he was picking up speed, thrusting harder, deeper, and all too soon it was over. He didn't neglect her pleasure, a few gentle touches of his hand enough to make her follow him over the edge, and afterwards he held her again, unable to get enough of her skin on his.

She looked up at him with a curious expression as he traced the tattoos on her face with his fingers, following their dark patterns all over her chin and cheeks and forehead. "Are you really a king, Thorin?"

He sighed. "I guess I am, in a manner of speaking. Though the last true King Under the Mountain was my grandfather, King Thrór. He was a mighty warrior and a great king. Under his rule, our people prospered and grew rich beyond imagination. You can't possibly imagine the splendour of his halls, the glory of his court."

Sigrun bit her lip. "No. I guess I can't."

Just then her stomach growled and she turned away from him, sitting up on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "Well, I guess that settles it then. A pity, really."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She got up and reached for her clothes, her tone light. "Well, isn't it obvious? What would a noble like you, a son of kings, want with a girl like me?"

"A girl like you?" He was genuinely confused and felt anger rising inside him. Anger and disappointment.

Sigrun tied her pants and looked at him searchingly. "You really don't understand, do you?"

Slipping on her blouse, she walked over to him, kissing him on the cheek with a crooked smile. "I'm a duster, Thorin. That's what those tattoos mean. A girl from the slums, a common criminal, the lowest of the low. There's only one thing a noble could ever want from a duster girl and you've had it."

He opened his mouth to speak, shocked by her words, but she had already turned to leave. "See you at breakfast. Maker, I'm starving!"

 

* * *

Thorin enjoyed an ample breakfast down in the Keep's large dining room in the company of Nathaniel and Anders and a sullen young Warden named Carver who had been on guard duty the night before. Sigrun was sitting at another table, deep in discussion with the tall elven woman and flashed him a quick, perfunctory smile. The food was homey and plentiful, eggs and bacon and honey cakes and porridge, and he enjoyed the meal thoroughly. When they had all polished off their plates, Nathaniel jumped to his feet with easy grace and motioned for Thorin to follow him.

"Come on. The Commander wants to talk to you some more, but she's busy until the afternoon. She asked me to find weapons and armour for you. If you want, you can join us in the courtyard for weapon practice."

He nodded. "I'd like that."

Nathaniel took him to armoury, a well-stocked room supervised by the weapon smith, one Master Wade, and his assistant. Thorin chatted briefly to the smith, pleased to find him a master of his craft, always on the lookout for new challenges.

"What's this?" He examined the chest plate Wade was working on. "I've never seen that kind of material before."

"Drakeskin armour." Wade smiled proudly. "Not many men can work it. It takes skill and patience. And dragon scales, of course. This is a particularly fine piece, meant for the Warden Commander herself."

"Dragon scales!" Thorin threw Nathaniel a sharp glance. "Where would you find those?"

"On a dead dragon, of course." Nathaniel grinned. "The Commander killed several, during the Blight. She seems to have a knack for it."

Thorin shook his head. "Killing a dragon... That is no small feat."

Nathaniel grew serious. "No, it isn't. But Megan is not your average fighter. I will tell you more about her during lunch. Let's look for a suitable armour for you."

With Wade's help, they soon found what they needed. An armoured chestplate, with massive shoulder guards and matching boots and gloves, made from a white-blue metal that was oddly light and smooth to the touch.

Thorin ran his fingers over the scales with a frown. "Mithril?" he ventured.

Wade gave him an odd sideways glance. "Silverite. I have a few suits made from stronger stuff, but they wouldn't fit you. You're tall for a dwarf. Now, let's see about weapons." He looked Thorin over appraisingly. "An axe-fighter, am I right?"

"I can handle a sword as well, but yes." Thorin nodded. He was only mildly surprised. A few of the smiths back in the Blue Mountains had possessed the same talent, guessing a warrior's favourite weapon just by looking at his stance and demeanour. Wade walked along a row of weapon stands and picked several axes, tutting and muttering until he'd found what he was looking for.

"Here." He handed Thorin a one-handed war axe, made from the same material as the armour. "Treat it well. This is a masterpiece, forged by the great Khern himself. It will cut through darkspawn armour like a knife through butter."

Thorin nodded his thanks, running his fingertip carefully along the perfectly sharpened edge of the axe head. "Your forces are well-equipped. I would like to learn more about what it means to be a Grey Warden."

"And so you shall." Nathaniel picked a matching round shield for him and turned to lead him out into the courtyard. "Anything I'm at liberty to tell you."

Thorin followed him, mulling over his words. A secret order of some kind, then? Was this what Gandalf had meant when he'd told him he could still be a force for good? He was intrigued.

 

* * *

Megan took a moment away from the hated paperwork to step onto the gallery and watch her Wardens spar in the courtyard. Nathaniel was busy practicing at the archery range and she ran her gaze appreciatively over his tall body, enjoying the play of muscles in his bare arms as he pulled the string, the intense focus of his stance, the sudden release of tension as he let go of the arrow. _Nice_.

Sigrun was attacking a practice dummy with her axe and dirk, with a barely contained fury that was unlike her usual playful grace. Megan raised an eyebrow. Something must have upset the cheerful little rogue to put such a frown on her face.

Carver was still desperate to prove himself, swinging his huge greatsword with more power than grace as he attacked Justice, leaving himself open on all sides to counter attacks. Anders had to step in several times and heal small cuts and bruises. Well, at least this would help Carver work off some of his resentment toward the world in general...

It took her a moment to recognize Thorin, now armoured and equipped with an axe and a shield. They had paired him with Oghren. _Quite the challenge for an unproven fighter_. For all his drinking and boasting, the red-haired dwarf was a formidable opponent and his huge battleaxe had saved them all many times down in the Deep Roads. But Thorin was holding his own quite nicely, parrying well and moving quickly and gracefully in and out of range.

Megan sighed and returned to her desk. What was she supposed to do with this stranger? A wizard had sent him, he'd said. Megan snorted. Not much of an explanation, really. True, some of her Wardens had pretty exotic pasts as well. If she could deal with a Fade spirit inhabiting the corpse of a dead Warden, a dwarven warrior from Maker-knew-where wasn't all that much of a stretch. Should Thorin decide to join them, none of it would matter any more. But would he want to? Did he even have another place to go? She was curious what he would have to say for himself later.

 

* * *

It was Anders who took Thorin up to the Warden Commander's study after lunch. It had been an interesting day so far. The Wardens had turned out to be as well trained as they were equipped, definitely a force to be reckoned with, despite their small number. But what amazed him most was their casual use of magic. More than once Anders had stepped in to heal small wounds, and once the mage had even cast a small fireball at a practice dummy, causing it to go up in blue flames, much to the others' amusement. Thorin tried to imagine Gandalf pulling off a trick like this and failed spectacularly. But then, Anders seemed to be a different type of wizard altogether, young and full of mischief and laughter.

And then there had been Justice. When he'd been introduced to the heavily armoured warrior, Thorin's first impulse had been to either run or attack him. This was no man but an abomination, a walking corpse. Still, the others had assured him that the decaying body was possessed by a benevolent, peaceful spirit rather than a necromancer's thrall.

Sigrun had avoided his company all through the day, even at lunch, and Thorin was more affected by her indifference than he liked to admit. The last night had been more than just a casual fling for him. He genuinely liked the pretty little rogue and it irked him that she would lump him together with the noble dwarves she'd known in the past. He would have to learn more about the dwarves in this world in order to understand why she was so upset by his aristocratic roots.

During lunch, Nathaniel had tried to give him a quick rundown of who the Wardens were and what they were doing in this place. His head was still spinning with all the new information. The _darkspawn_ Nathaniel kept referring to sounded a lot like orcs or goblins, and the _Archdemon_ seemed to have been essentially a large dragon. If the Wardens were an order dedicated to fighting the forces of darkness, it seemed he had indeed come to the right place.

He found it hard to believe the stories Nathaniel had told him about Megan Cousland, though. This mere slip of a girl was supposed to have slain several dragons, united the elves and dwarves and humans of her world against a common foe and defeated all odds to overcome evil more than once. All of this seemed completely incongruous with the laughing young face that now looked up at him from a pile of papers.

"Thorin. I hear you've been giving my Wardens a hard time on the practice court?" There were laugh-lines around the Commander's eyes as she spoke and her pose could only be described as flirtatious.

"I did my best, but your Wardens are able fighters." He remained cautious, unsure of what else to say.

"So they are." Megan leant against the desk, crossing her arms on her chest. "Tell me more about where you come from, Thorin, and what you are doing here."

He took a deep breath. "I don't know much more than you do, Commander. Gandalf the Grey, the wizard who sent me here, told me he was sending me to another world where I could be healed and where I could still do some good. My home is far from here, and it's a very different place. But if you're dedicated to fighting evil, I'll gladly join you."

She chewed her lower lip. "Fighting evil. Ah." Looking up, she caught his gaze. "But it's not always easy to tell what's evil and what's good, is it?"

He raised his chin. "Sometimes not. But I've talked to your men, and from what they told me the foes you're fighting are monsters, corrupted beyond redemption, bloodthirsty and cruel. I'm willing to help you in your struggle."

Megan smiled. "So you'd become a Warden? But there's more to it than fighting darkspawn, you know. You'd have to give up everything else. And there are... other drawbacks, which I can't even tell you about."

Thorin shrugged. "I don't care. I don't have anything else to live for, not in this world. And the things I strove for in my own world seem petty now. Revenge, glory, treasure... none of them matter any more. Being near death changes a man."

She nodded. "I can understand that. Still, it's a far-reaching decision. I wouldn't want you to undergo the Joining before you know us better. But you can come along on our next patrol to the Deep Roads. We'll be leaving the day after tomorrow. Nathaniel will take care of you until then, show you around and explain things to you. There must be lots of stuff you find confusing."

Thorin inclined his head gratefully. "Thank you, Commander."

She dismissed him with a quick nod and he left. It felt strange, taking orders from a human woman, and if he was honest it tickled his pride. Yet, in a way, it was a relief not to be in charge any more. No longer King Under the Mountain, no longer a leader of armies. Just Thorin. Gandalf might have given him an even greater gift than he had thought at first.

 

* * *

Sigrun had found a comfortable place on a bench in the Great Hall, near one of the huge fireplaces, and settled down with a Nevarran romance she had found on one of the bookshelves. Though, come to think of it, her choice of reading material probably wasn't ideal for taking her mind off Thorin and the night she'd spent with him. The book turned out to be quite racy and more than once she was reminded of the way his hands had felt on her body, the heated rush of pleasure when he'd kissed her, touched her, made love to her...

She shook herself. Not _made love_. They'd rutted, just for the pleasure of it. It hadn't been different from what any of the noble hunters did at home - spreading their legs for a high-born lover, feeling honoured he'd even notice them. Or had it? The expression on his face when she'd told him... He'd seemed genuinely shocked by her words. Maybe where he came from, they didn't have casteless dwarves. Maybe the nobles there were actually _noble_ , honourable and respectful, not just out for their own advantage. _Yeah, right!_ Sigrun sighed. _Because he comes from a place where brontos fly and princes fall in love with poor duster girls._

Putting the book back onto its shelf, she jumped to her feet. Almost dinner time. Maybe she should stick to her room tonight, avoid the Hall, the drinking and the singing. Avoid listening to his voice and dealing with the confusion it awakened in her chest. _Yes_. No use pining for him. Romantic fantasies were for noble girls or for dreamers, like Anders. Not for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Keeping You Warm, chapter 3**

The next morning, Nathaniel took Thorin on a grand tour of Vigil's Keep, all the way around the battlements, down to the deepest dungeons and up to the top of the highest tower. Once more, Thorin was impressed by the quality of the stonework. Everything seemed to be in top shape, with a small band of labourers led by a dwarven stonemason constantly busy strengthening and reinforcing the walls. When he mentioned this to Nathaniel, the young man nodded.

"Megan puts great value on maintaining the Keep and Voldrik there is a master of his craft. With him in charge of the repairs, it's become an almost impregnable fortress once more. It's one of the oldest settlements in this country, you know. Goes back to the time of the early barbarian clans." There was genuine pride and affection in Nathaniel's voice.

"You know your way around this place very well," Thorin remarked.

Indeed Nathaniel seemed to be familiar with every nook and cranny of the building, every shortcut and secret passage. He also knew all the servants by name, and they answered his greetings with respectful bows and curtseys, smiling as they did so.

"This is my home." Nathaniel's expression grew a little wistful. "I grew up in this place, back when it still belonged to my family. Then my father, Arl Rendon Howe, turned traitor and we lost it all."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Thorin wasn't quite sure how to react. The shame and frustration of losing his own home, many years ago, were still fresh in his mind, but at least his ancestors had always behaved with honour. "What... became of your father?"

"Megan killed him." Nathaniel's tone was dry. "When she fought her way through his estate in Denerim, near the end of the Blight. It's a long story."

Thorin looked at him incredulously. "She killed your father? And now the two of you-"

Nathaniel shrugged. "She tried to spare him, I believe, but he refused to surrender. And really, it was better this way. My father was possessed with greed, more than half mad. Putting him down was an act of mercy."

"Still, she killed your _father_. And you-" Thorin couldn't keep quiet. So much of his life had been about avenging his own father and grandfather. He couldn't understand how Nathaniel was so calm about this.

"What would you have us do, Thorin?" Nathaniel sounded unexpectedly gentle. "My father killed Megan's whole family, except for her brother, had them all slaughtered by his men. Me, Megan and Fergus, we're the last survivors of two grand and noble families. Well, there's my sister Delilah, but she married a merchant. Anyway, I've known Megan since we were children, long before this whole madness started. What purpose could possibly be served by the two of us killing each other off? It's bad enough we'll never have heirs."

Thorin's ears pricked up at this. "Why not?"

Nathaniel cursed under his breath. "I shouldn't really be telling you this. Wardens don't have children. We- But really, you'll learn about this soon enough, if you decide you want to join us."

Thorin shook his head. This explained why Sigrun hadn't seemed concerned about the risk of him fathering a bastard on her. _No children. No heirs._ Could this really be the path Gandalf had meant for him? No one to carry on his name, his line. But then, the line of Thráin was all but meaningless in this world anyway. All the rich history of his forefathers, all their glorious deeds were just quaint anecdotes told by a mysterious stranger. It was an almost unbearable thought.

He forced himself to change the subject. "If all this used to be your family's land, I'm sure you know it well. Are there any towns or cities nearby?"

A shadow crossed Nathaniel's face. "There used to be. Amaranthine, only a day's ride from here. A prosperous port city, with a long and glorious history. It lies in ruins now."

"Why?" Thorin smelled a story behind the sparse words.

"Megan gave the order to burn it down. It was overrun by darkspawn, you see. And we had to make a choice, either rescue the few remaining survivors or return to the Keep and save our headquarters. She chose the latter." Nathaniel's face was dark.

"She had a whole city burned down? With everyone in it? Men, women, children?" Thorin tried to keep calm, but he was shocked. "Aren't the Wardens supposed to keep people safe from those monsters?"

"They are supposed to fight darkspawn and prevent a Blight, by whatever means necessary," Nathaniel corrected him. "There was nothing we could have done, believe me. Setting fire to the city killed all the darkspawn within it. And we managed to take the fight to them and defeat their leader."

"Still, it seems a high price to pay." Thorin felt sobered.

For all their laughter and merriment, these people had been through a lot of darkness. It wasn't just the monsters they were fighting, though Megan had shown him pictures of them and his stomach had churned at the sight of their vile faces. But it seemed to him that worse than all the hurlocks and genlocks and whatever they called them were the horrible crimes committed by men and dwarves and elves in this world.

Last night he had spent hours talking to Anders, shocked to discover they actually locked their mages up in this world. They imprisoned them in towers, bleak, forbidding places, claiming it was necessary to keep them safe from demonic possession. And for all their power, the mages seemed helpless in the face of this.

The plight of the elves in Thedas was another surprise. In his world, elves were radiant, ethereal beings whose regal beauty was matched only by their arrogance. The elves who worked here at the Keep had a downtrodden look about them, shoulders hunched, as if they were constantly afraid of giving offence. He had mentioned his surprise to Velanna, but had only received a contemptuous huff in reply. The elven mage seemed a wild and feral creature full of rage and distrust, a far cry from the majestic dignity of Elrond or Thranduil.

The state of affairs in the dwarven lands was equally mystifying. After lunch, when Thorin spotted Oghren in the hall, nursing a jug of ale, he decided to use the opportunity to find out more about dwarven customs. He had a lot of questions.

Oghren put down his tankard with a heart-felt belch. "Ha! Want to know about Orzammar, do you? Well, I'm telling ya, I'm glad to be out of that place. The noble nughumpers there'd happily poison your tea as they chat about a newly discovered seam of ore. And Dust Town? You don't even want to imagine the place. The poor are fightin' for scraps, tryin' to survive any way they can. The upper castes, they have no idea how bad it is. They send their servants in to find them pretty girls to... you know. But they're smart enough to stay away from it themselves. Never set foot there myself before I met the Warden and never want to see the place again."

Thorin frowned. "But how can the rulers of your people allow this?"

Oghren snorted. "Well, King Bhelen has a pretty Dust Town mistress himself, they say. A fiery redhead, hot as spicy nug stew. Can't blame him for keeping things the way they are. And of course the king's happy enough to use the services of the Carta when he needs to get rid of someone."

"Ah, Oghren. Indulging in happy memories of home, I see." Thorin started when he realized Sigrun had joined them. She really could move almost without making a sound. "At least in Dust Town you knew what was what. Everyone knew how to look out for themselves and not to trust anyone. Especially not the young noble bucks who promised us love and pretty dresses."

Thorin swallowed at the bitterness in her voice. "It sounds horrible. But Sigrun, where I come from things are different, they really are. No dwarf would ever-"

"Are you sure?" Her eyes were hard as she faced him. "Those armies your grandfather commandeered, who were the foot soldiers that died in his wars, their names forgotten? Who cleaned those lovely big halls of his? Who dug the latrines, looked after the wounded, mopped up the mess? There's always someone to do the dirty work. There's always poverty, dirt and abuse. Maybe you just never saw it, because you never ventured down into their squalor?"

He was momentarily taken aback. "Sure, there were poor people. But we took care of them. We-"

"Yeah, right." Sigrun shook her head. "You keep telling yourself that."

 

 

* * *

The rest of the day was taken up with preparations for their patrol to the Deep Roads: assembling provisions, taking care of their weapons and armour, checking maps and preparing Thorin for what lay ahead.

"We'll head to Kal'Hirol,” Megan explained. “That should be interesting to you, Thorin. It used to be a great thaig, a dwarven city below the surface. Of course it's deserted now, though I hear House Helmi has plans to resettle it. Sigrun, you will come with us and so will Anders and Carver. Nathaniel will stay here and hold the fort for me. We might be gone a little longer than usual." Megan smiled warmly at the tall archer. "It's good to know I can rely on you."

When the evening came, Thorin returned to the cosy warmth of the Great Hall again and sat down at a table with Nathaniel, Anders and Carver. They were just as curious about his world as he was about theirs, and for a time they traded stories and anecdotes.

"Do mages in your world wear silly robes such as those?" Nathaniel tugged at one of the feathers on Anders' sleeve with a grin.

Thorin shook his head. "Not really, no. They wear cloaks and pointy hats."

"Pointy hats? Really?" Anders nearly choked on his ale. "Oh my. And here I thought that cowl Megan got for me was bad. You know, the one with the golden tassels? But back in the Circle the robes were actually pretty convenient for quick trysts in the corner. No laces or buttons. You're done before the templars catch on."

Carver blushed furiously and Thorin felt inclined to join him, but Nathaniel's eyes took on a curious gleam. "You don't always wear robes, do you?"

Anders took on the challenge with a suggestive smile. "Not when I'm naked, I don't."

Thorin was surprised to hear Nathaniel's breath hitch.

"You're impossible to talk to, Anders. And a damn tease." The archer's voice had gone rough.

"Not a tease, Nate. Not at all." Anders held the other man's gaze without flinching and Carver's blush deepened even further.

Nathaniel jumped to his feet. "Give me a moment."

He walked over to the other table where Megan was chatting with Velanna and Justice and leant over to whisper something in her ear. She bit her lip briefly, but then smiled up radiantly at him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Nathaniel returned with a cocky grin and stopped behind Anders, placing two firm hands on the mage's shoulders. Slowly he bent down and brushed Anders' hair behind one ear, his hand lingering lovingly on the mage's neck.

His murmur was just about loud enough that Thorin could make out the words. "Ready to show me what's under those robes then?"

Anders shivered briefly and got up to follow him out of the room without another word. Thorin was momentarily speechless. Of course he knew there were men who preferred each other's company, but back home, those things were handled with far more discretion. Besides, he had assumed that Nathaniel and the Commander-

Just then, Megan came over with a bright smile and slid into the free place next to Carver, placing a hand on his thigh. "Well, big boy. Seems I'm left to my own devices tonight. Unless you'd care to... let off some steam?"

Carver blushed, but he nodded quickly.

Megan grinned. "I thought so. Meet me in my room in half an hour, will you?"

With a friendly nod at Thorin, she disappeared up the stairs. Carver got up as well, with an apologetic smile. Thorin was glad of it. He wasn't really in the mood for more conversation. The casual attitude they all displayed here had him more than a little shaken. Was everyone here so generous with their favours?

And if so, what did that mean for him and Sigrun? When she had come to his room, had it just been a normal evening's entertainment for her? Some part of him refused to believe this. The way she had looked at him, the closeness he'd felt... it couldn't just have been his imagination. She hadn't joined them in the hall tonight or the night before, claiming to be tired. On impulse, he decided to seek her out.

 

 

* * *

Sigrun had spent the evening reading the book Megan had given her as a present some months ago. _The Warrior's Heart_. Its section on the Legion of the Dead was less than accurate, but it was interesting to see a surfacer's perspective on her old comrades. The author seemed to think it was actually an honour to join the legion. Sigrun snorted. Much as with the Grey Wardens, the legion had been a last refuge for most of them, the only way to avoid certain death or to have a last chance to redeem their names and their families. She herself certainly hadn't joined it just for a lark. With both the Carta and the Orzammar authorities on her heels, there hadn't been much choice.

And still, it had meant something. Dying to her old life, starting anew. Finally a chance to prove she wasn't quite as worthless as everyone had thought. To prove it to herself if to no one else, that the thieving little whore from Dust Town wouldn't give up, would stand against the darkspawn to her last breath. Just like the casteless of Kal'Hirol had done, saving everyone else through their heroic sacrifice.

The knock on the door tore her out of her broodings. Fortunately she was still fully dressed.

"Who is it?" She knew the answer, really. Who else would come to her room at this time of the night?

"Thorin. May I enter?" _So polite_. Just like the aristocrat he was.

Sigrun sighed. "Yes. Come in."

He looked tired, and somehow less confident than he had when she'd first met him. There was a new expression in his eyes, an uncertainty that hadn't been there before. It had to be unsettling, to be so far out of his depth, so far from anything he knew. For a brief moment, she felt a pang of guilt. Had she judged him too harshly?

"Sigrun." Thorin smiled at her tentatively. "You didn't come downstairs, again."

"So?" She raised her chin belligerently. "I like to be alone sometimes."

"I understand." He didn't raise to the bait. "I can leave if you wish me to."

Sigrun bit her lip. "We should get some sleep. Tomorrow we leave for the Deep Roads and we need to be rested."

"Yes. We should." He nodded, but then he crossed the room in a few quick paces and was suddenly right before her. "Sigrun, I-"

He didn't finish, just caught her in a firm embrace and kissed her, so passionately that she forgot to breathe. _Maker, but he feels so good_. That hard body against hers, the silky locks of his hair under her hands, his mouth on hers... Almost immediately her body responded, melting into his embrace, every inch of her skin crying out for his touch. And at the same time the pain cut through her heart, so intense that she almost cried out and pushed him back harder than she'd meant to.

"What's the point, Thorin?" He looked surprised, almost wounded, and it took all her control to calm down, to keep her voice light and unaffected. "Look, we had a good time, and I'm certainly not complaining, but we both know it was just some harmless fun, right?"

This time the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

He took a step backward, struggling to look as serene and collected as she did. "I'm sorry, Sigrun. I may have misunderstood. I won't bother you any further."

She almost reached out to stop him. But he already had his hand on the door handle and she didn't really know what to say. It was probably all for the best.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The Deep Roads were not what Thorin had expected. True, they were not unlike the dwarven cities of his own world. High vaulted ceilings, beautifully crafted stone work, huge slabs of granite. But the sheer extent of the network of roads impressed him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

When he'd asked Megan how far the roads went, she had just shrugged. "This particular one goes at least as far as Orzammar. But really, they are everywhere. I've heard of at least twelve dwarven cities and numerous mining outposts, all connected by Deep Roads. Of course, most of them are in ruins nowadays."

Thorin had nodded thoughtfully. At various times since they had entered the system of roadways, they'd had to leave the main thoroughfares and find their way through winding side tunnels because ceilings had caved in or walls had crumbled. For the most part, though, the roads were in surprisingly good shape, despite the strange, oily residue covering some of the walls.

"Darkspawn corruption." Anders wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I hate the Deep Roads."

One could hardly blame the mage for his sentiments, Thorin supposed. It was dark and dangerous down here. Still, it was so easy to imagine how grand it must once have been. There were lava channels to both sides of the road, now cold and full of ashes, but back when they were still active, they would have given off more than enough warmth and light. And the air was cool and fresh, no doubt thanks to carefully arranged ducts in the ceilings. Thorin knew the dwarves of this world weren't his people, but looking around he felt a curious sense of pride.

Sigrun was scouting ahead, and Megan was walking a little way in front of him and Anders, with Carver by her side. The two of them were laughing and smiling a lot, occasionally jostling each other playfully. When the tall young Warden hit his head on a rocky ledge, Megan pulled his head down for a kiss on his brow, letting it linger a little. Carver blushed, but seemed pleased with her attention.

Anders shook his head with a grin. "Maker, I haven't seen Carver that relaxed since he joined the Wardens. Whatever Megan and he are up to at night, it seems to do him good."

Thorin didn't quite manage to hide his thin-lipped disapproval. "Still, it doesn't seem... fitting for a Commander to be this familiar with her people."

Anders' grin widened. "It doesn't? Oh, come on, Thorin. Don't tell me in your world they're all chaste and virtuous all the time?"

"We try to exert some measure of self-control, yes." Thorin was aware he sounded stiff and pompous, but the mage seemed to bring out this side in him.

"What do people do when they get horny then? Take matters into their own hands?" Anders accompanied his words with a decidedly obscene gesture that Thorin decided to ignore.

But Anders didn't expect an answer anyway. "You know, for a while I thought you and Sigrun were going to be an item. I think everybody was rooting for the two of you, to be honest. Sigrun is a cutie, at least if you're into girls, and you seem to be her type."

"Her type? None of you people seem to be all that selective when it comes to bed partners." The words came out sharper than Thorin had intended.

Anders shrugged, not particularly offended. "Most of us take our pleasures where we find them, true. You may have noticed that Wardens have big appetites, and that's not restricted to food. Sigrun, however... Before you came here I've never seen her look twice at any of her fellow Wardens. Well, maybe she's not into humans, and I can't really blame her for avoiding Oghren. I guess ale-swilling mountains of belches aren't what rocks her boat."

A distinctive warning whistle sounded from the tunnel ahead, the tunnel where Sigrun had disappeared. As Megan drew her daggers, Thorin heard a curious rustling noise and then something huge and hairy scrambled towards them at an alarming speed.

"A spider. And I think it's got friends." Anders sounded almost cheerful. "Out of the way, Carver!"

The mage raised his hand and Thorin watched in fascination. A faint glue blow emanated from his palm but he held back, waiting for precisely the right moment. There were indeed four or five more spiders following closely on the heels of the first one. Just before the first one was within reach of Carver's sword, Anders called out an incomprehensible sequence of words. A sheet of ice spread from his palm and the first three spiders stopped immediately, frozen solid. Carver hit one of them hard with his blade and it burst into a rain of frozen shards.

Thorin gasped in surprise, but he took the hint and attacked the second spider before it could thaw. He was dimly aware of Megan moving impossibly fast, attacking the largest spider with her two daggers in a furious whirlwind of grace, as Sigrun mirrored her movements a few paces behind. Anders shouted another spell and Carver took down one more spider with a powerful stroke. There was a flurry of screaming and shouting and the clattering of blades. And then it was over, and Megan stood before him. Spattered with vile-smelling blood, she panted with the effort and wore a triumphant smile.

"Got them. Let's get away from the carcasses, they stink. And then we should see about finding a place to make camp for the night."

The opportunity arose sooner than they had expected. Only a few hundred paces further along the road, a broken and twisted iron door in a side wall led into a dilapidated chamber, clearly a former guard room. It would be easier to defend than a spot on the open road and a fire would be less likely to be seen. They quickly set up camp and shared a cup of hot tea before stretching out on their bedrolls to catch some rest.

Sigrun slipped out of the room to keep watch and on impulse Thorin followed her outside. Anders' words had echoed in his mind for most of the day's march. _I've never seen her look twice at any of her fellow Wardens._ So no matter what she had told him, Sigrun wasn't the type to indulge in casual flings. It seemed his instincts had been correct, after all.

When he walked up to join her, she looked at him with an odd expression. "Thorin. You should get some rest. We've been lucky so far, but you never know when we might get attacked."

He sighed. "I don't want to rest. I want to talk to you. It's about time we did."

Her lips tightened. "I thought I had said all there was to say. We had fun, it's over. Nothing more to add."

Thorin huffed. "Damn it, Sigrun, when will you stop lying to yourself?" She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on, determined to get this out in the open. "Look, I don't know what else I can do to persuade you I wasn't toying with you that night. I think if you look into your own heart, you'll have to admit it was a lot more than just 'fun'. I felt it and I'm sure so did you." He was angry now, too angry to watch his words any longer. "I'm serious about you, Sigrun. You're the most fascinating woman I've met in more years than I can count, and I couldn't care less about where you come from. I'll do my best not to hurt you. But if you're too cowardly to-"

"I'm no coward!" There were sparks in her eyes. "Take that back!"

He shook his head. "I won't! If you can't admit you feel the same, if you can't-"

"Thorin!" In an instant, she was in his arms. “Shut up.”

She kissed him fiercely, and her lips were sweet on his, and when he kissed her back, she made happy little noises. The rush of relief was almost overwhelming, matched only by the rush of heat to his groin at her touch. He sank to the floor, pulling her close and arranging her on his lap, kissing her lips, her cheeks, her throat, feverishly hot kisses that left her entirely breathless. His hands roamed over her body, trying to slip into the gaps in her armour, desperate to feel her skin.

She fiddled with the fastenings of his armour, eager to get it off. "Maker, Thorin, I want..."

"What?" he gasped between kisses. "What do you want?"

Her moan turned into a whimper as his tongue painted a hot trail down her neck. "You. Now. Can't wait."

There was simply too much armour in the way and no way to get it off fast enough. He cursed and fumbled with the leather straps, but the light was dim and he was trembling far too much to be quick about it.

Fortunately Sigrun was just as eager as he was. "Here."

She guided his hands to the right place and her chestplate finally came off. With a happy sigh he buried his face between her breasts, nuzzling them through her shirt, breathing in the scent of her, spicy and earthy. Sigrun's face was flushed with arousal, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Before he knew it, her nimble fingers untied his armour straps. Huffing impatiently, Sigrun tossed the chestplate aside and undid the laces of his tunic. Her leather-clad thighs tightened around his waist and Thorin couldn't hold back a growl. He pushed up her shirt and pulled her close and suddenly they were skin to skin, the heat of her body a sharp contrast to the surrounding cool air. Feeling her like this, all along his torso, hot and smooth and taut, made him lose his last shred of control.

All he could think of was Sigrun. He wanted her so badly, wanted her here and now and he didn't care where they were. Thorin didn't waste a thought on the others camping right behind the wall he was leaning against. The darkness, the cold, the dangers surrounding them, none of them mattered when all he could think of was how good she would feel around him, so tight, so warm, so wet.

His hand slid deeper, slipping beneath the waistband of her leggings, when she went stiff in his arms. "Thorin. Stop."

His heart nearly missed a beat and he froze in mid-motion. "Why? What have I done?"

She pushed him back vigorously, her face tight with concentration as if she was listening for something he couldn't hear. "Nothing. Get your armour back on. Now! Darkspawn!"

The other Wardens broke out through the door, brandishing their weapons,  before Sigrun had quite finished getting her clothing back into place. Megan barked orders at all of them, but before they could take up their position, before they could even reach for their discarded armour, the first wave of attackers was upon them.

Thorin's curses died on his lips as he grabbed his shield and axe and faced his first foe, a twisted, pointy-eared creature with sharp teeth and a bald head, not unlike a goblin. _Genlocks_ , Megan had called them, when they had looked at pictures in her study. Anders was casting frantically, trying to slow down a tall, armed darkspawn warrior charging at Megan. The creature was swinging a bloody two-handed axe with apparent ease and seemed unstoppable - until Carver stepped in its way and raised his sword, blocking a blow that would have cloven him in two.

With a silent salute to Master Wade, Thorin blocked another attack with his shield and managed to take down his opponent. The axe did indeed slice easily through the monster's armour and almost took off its head. Thick black blood spurted out of a severed artery.

"Try not to touch their blood!" Sigrun was on her feet, joining the fray in shirt and leggings, her amazing speed her only defence against the advancing darkspawn. He felt a flash of worry, but then there was no time any more for such considerations. More and more genlocks came swarming at them. Carver and Anders worked in concert to take down the tall axe fighter, and Megan was everywhere at once.

There was a moment of panic when one of the genlocks raised a crooked staff and began an ominous sounding incantation, but before it could finish, it went down to the floor, Sigrun's axe buried deep in its ugly skull. The rest of the genlocks were easily dispersed and Thorin felt a wave of relief washing over him.

But then he heard it. A deep, booming noise, a trembling of the stone floor under his feet.

"Oh blight it! They have backup." Carver's voice sounded curiously flat.

The genlocks scrambled back to a corner in the road and quickly reappeared, surrounding a creature that seemed to have emerged straight from a nightmare. Impossibly huge, towering above them on legs like tree trunks, twisted horns crowning a massive skull, vicious teeth flashed at them in the gruesome parody of a smile. It didn't have a weapon, but it didn't need one. A fist like a battering ram crushed down on the floor near Megan, throwing her off balance.

One of Anders' freezing spells momentarily stopped the ogre in its tracks. Thorin could see Sigrun right next to it, lunging behind it and trying to hack at its hamstrings. Megan jumped back to her feet and shouted a command at Carver who quickly proceeded to eliminate the genlocks, one by one. They died with horrible, high-pitched squeals. Thorin joined him and managed to kill two bowmen himself, but then the spell wore off and the ogre turned to face him. He raised his shield, praying to whatever gods would listen, but the thing just lifted a giant foot and brought it down to the floor with a vicious grin. The resulting shockwave slammed him hard against the tunnel wall and the world went dark.

When he opened his eyes again, the creature was bleeding from several deep gashes. All the genlocks were down. Anders was leaning against the wall several paces from him, visibly exhausted and reaching for a blue potion, which he downed in one large gulp. Carver was still on his feet, attacking tirelessly, but Megan and Sigrun were nowhere to be seen.

Thorin looked around for them frantically but then he heard a savage, triumphant scream.  He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Megan. With a speed that defied all natural laws, she climbed up the ogre's back, nimbly evading the creature’s clumsy attempts to swat her away. She scampered up all the way to its thick, corded neck. For a single, glorious moment, she stood up there, raising her daggers high into the air, and then she buried them deep in the ogre's skull.

The evil red eyes immediately went dull. A curious, gulping noise came from the ogre's throat, and then it swayed forward and back. Megan jumped down to the floor with a merry laugh.

"Get out of the way!" Carver rushed back, seeking cover, as the enormous rump hit the ground, sending them all tumbling to the floor once more.    

When the dust settled, they all got back to their feet - all except Sigrun. She was nowhere to be seen and Thorin's throat tightened. _What if-_

They found her in the rubble, right next to the ogre's huge horned head. There was a deep, gaping wound all along her lower ribcage and her stomach was covered in blood. Thorin could make out a splintered piece of bone sticking through the skin. Suddenly he felt cold as ice.

Anders knelt down next to her, a worried frown on his face. "Andraste's ass, Sigrun, this looks nasty." His long, mobile fingers were dancing over her torso, checking for further injuries. "Seems you were lucky. Your lung isn't punctured, only a few ribs broken. I can fix that, but if the blade had hit you just a few inches deeper, your innards would be all over the place. Why on Thedas weren't you wearing your chestplate?"

Thorin felt as if he had been slapped, his cheeks growing hot with shame. She could easily have died in this fight, all because he-

"Well, I guess it's fairly obvious why." A veritable thunderstorm was brewing on Megan's face as she looked to and fro between Sigrun and Thorin, who was nursing a nasty bruise on his bare upper arm. "Honestly, Sigrun, what were you thinking? Maker knows, I'm the last person who would preach at you for seeking some stress relief, but taking your armour off in the middle of the Deep Roads? Have you lost your mind?"

"In a manner of speaking." Somehow Sigrun still seemed to have the energy to grin, despite being in obvious pain. "At least you wouldn't have had to bother with my funeral, Commander. Been there, done that."

"What is she talking about?" Thorin hissed at Carver. "Is she hallucinating?"

The young Warden smiled affectionately. "No, that's just Sigrun's idea of a joke. She used to be a member of the Legion of the Dead, and when they join, a funeral is held for them. They die symbolically, you see."

Thorin exhaled sharply. "That's a cruel thing to do to anyone." _Though, come to think of it, probably something we have in common. I suppose they've already held a funeral for me back home._

Carver shrugged. "She doesn't seem to mind. Keeps joking about how she's really dead and has nothing to fear any more. Well, in a way we all are, so she's not far off."

"What do you mean, you all are?" Thorin tried to keep his voice casual, but failed. _Another Warden secret?_

But before Carver could answer, Anders raised his head. "You're not quite dead, Sigrun. At least not more than usual." The mage smiled affectionately at his patient. "I've closed the wound and reset your ribs, and you haven't lost as much blood as I thought at first. All you need is rest. Commander, I recommend we all try to get some more sleep. Carver, could you carry Sigrun back into the guard post? It's quieter in there, and much drier too."

"I'll do it." Thorin knelt down at her side.

"I can walk!" Sigrun's face scrunched up in indignation. "I'm wounded, but that doesn't mean I'm suddenly a fragile little lady."

"I know you aren't." He caught her gaze. "That's why I love you. Now let me help you."

"That's why you- Oh!" Sigrun's mouth fell open, and she gave up her resistance.

Thorin took her in his arms and stood up, straightening his back. Megan and Carver hadn't heard or at least pretended not to have heard, but Anders' face wore what could only be described as a smirk.

He carried Sigrun to a quiet corner and set her down carefully on the ground, spreading their bedrolls on a patch of dry earth. Lying down, he pulled her into his arms, making sure she was comfortable before he covered them both with a blanket.

"Sleep now. I won't leave your side, I swear." He breathed a kiss on her forehead.

Sigrun rolled her eyes at him. "You'd better stretch your legs occasionally. I don't mind."

But there was no mistaking the tiny happy smile curling up the corners of her mouth as she fell asleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Carver had agreed to keep watch, and the others had hoped for a few hours of quiet, uninterrupted sleep, but apparently it was not to be. Thorin woke when Sigrun jerked uncontrollably in his arms, a stifled cry breaking from her lips, echoed only seconds later by Megan and Anders. He had been deep asleep and it took him a moment to fight his way up to consciousness, past the fuzziness of his dreams. Sigrun was bathed in cold sweat and shaking all over. He bent down to kiss her, murmuring soothing words through the haze of sleep when it hit him - a vision of such clarity and such monstrosity at the same time that he couldn't help but cry out himself.

It lasted only an instant, but it was enough to make his stomach turn with disgust. _A deep pit, hastily dug, somewhere in the deepest of the Deep Roads. Darkspawn scrambling up and down its slopes. And down there in the middle, a huge creature, ugly and amorphous. Layers upon layers of sagging breasts, an unspeakably twisted vision of fertile womanhood, giant tentacles swaying around it, the whole thing crowned by a horribly deformed face with red eyes and sharp teeth._

"What manner of foul creature was that?" Thorin wasn't even aware he'd spoken aloud, but Megan and Anders turned to face him with expressions of pure shock.

"You _saw_ it?" Megan's voice was shaky. "You saw the broodmother? But how can that be? That was a Warden nightmare. Unless... Did you touch their blood?"

Anders was on his feet in a flash and ran a cool hand over Thorin's forehead. His expression was worried, but after a brief, but thorough examination, he shook his head.

"No sign of the Taint, Commander. He seems hale and healthy." The mage placed a hand on Sigrun's shoulder and frowned briefly. "You need more healing, though."

Megan spoke up sharply, her face concerned. "How can that be? How can he see it if he's not tainted?"

Anders shrugged. Thorin felt Sigrun relax as the mage sent another wave of healing through her battered body.

"Maybe it's the proximity of three Wardens dreaming. Or the fact that we're so close to the pits." The mage cocked his head for a moment, thinking. "It could also be the... bond he shares with Sigrun. Or maybe it has something to do with how he came to our world and why he's here. There could be any number of reasons."

Megan chewed her lower lip. "True. Still, I don't like it. Get some more sleep now, all of you. We can talk more once we're rested."

When the others woke again later, still bleary-eyed and exhausted, Megan was already up, a determined expression on her face. "We're heading back. Straight away. This is getting too risky, with Sigrun still recovering and..." She gestured at Thorin.

"But Commander!" Sigrun sat up, flinching briefly at the pain in her recently broken ribs. "I'm fine, I really am. And Thorin needs to see Kal'Hirol."

Megan shook her head, her face severe. "No, you're not. You're still hurting; any idiot could see that. Face it, Sigrun, you're not at your best. Thanks to your own stupidity, I may add."

"Commander, please. We're almost there." Thorin almost smiled at the expression on Sigrun's face.

Her pleading blue eyes could have melted a heart of stone, and Megan relented with a deep sigh. "Alright. We'll take the longer route back and pass the outskirts of the thaig. But we're still leaving, you hear me? I won't risk your life just to have you show off some dwarven ruins to your lover."

 _Her lover_. Thorin almost flinched, but then he mentally chastised himself. _And why not?_ There was no denying he was in love, even though it wasn't something he had expected ever to be again. But then he had expected none of the strange events of the past few days. _Gandalf, what have you done?_

They set out again right after a cold breakfast of beef jerky and hard biscuits that looked just like _lembas_ , the elven waybread of his world, but unfortunately seemed to lack both its pleasant taste and its unique properties. Before they left the area, Megan stopped at one of the darkspawn corpses and busied herself with it briefly, stowing away a small vial filled with black, sluggish blood in her pockets.

When they were back on the road, Megan took the lead and motioned for Thorin to join her. "What did you see? Tell me."

He explained as best he could and she nodded tersely. "That's what we dreamed of. A broodmother."

"What is it?" Some part of Thorin's mind told him he rather didn't want to know, but he was not in the habit of avoiding unpleasant truths. Besides, there had to be a reason he had been shown that vision.

"It's how the darkspawn procreate." A shudder ran over Megan's body. "They... capture females, dwarves, humans, elves and use them to create those monstrosities, somehow infecting them with the darkspawn taint. The one you saw was a dwarf once. She'd give birth to genlocks."

Thorin felt a new bout of sickness coming on at the implications of what she told him. "So you're saying that if they captured a dwarven Grey Warden like Sigrun-"

"That's what would become of her, yes. If she survived the process." Megan's face was grim. "As far as we can tell, formerly human broodmothers produce hurlocks, while elves are what they use to create shrieks."

"This is the stuff of nightmares." Thorin shuddered. "Still, it sounds oddly familiar. They say the orcs who ravage our world are an attempt to mimic elves and humans, created by evil forces to spite us. It seems evil can't engender anything but pale mockeries of what already exists."

Anders had joined them, listening attentively. "I believe you're on to something there, Thorin. I've always wondered why they look so abominably ugly. Maybe they're meant to be disgusting. Show us our own worst traits, that sort of thing."

"I don't care what they are meant to be." Megan put a hand on the hilt of her dagger. "Every single one I come across will die at my hands. That's all they can ever expect of me."

Thorin was inclined to agree.

 

* * *

He only got a brief glance at the ancient dwarven fortress they called Kal'Hirol. Just a glimpse of awe-inspiring edifices, tall columns, vast squares, that appeared to stretch much farther than he could see in the dim underground light. Everything was in ruins, covered by the telltale signs of darkspawn taint. But it was enough to fill his heart with a curious mixture of sadness and ambition. To see all this lie in ruins...

If only he had a few of his old companions with him. Balin, his trusted advisor. Dwalin, fierce and unstoppable, his trusted warhammer always within reach. Dori, strong and hardy. Óin, whose spear never missed its mark. And all the others. With them at his side, he could start rebuilding a city like this, a home for himself and his followers, become what he was born to be...

"Maker, there's darkspawn taint everywhere, isn't there? Ugh. Reminds me of the time a bronto fell off Orzammar's highest tier." Sigrun wrinkled her tiny nose. "Bronto guts everywhere. Took ages to clean it up."

Thorin made a face at this reminder of the gritty realities of his new life. _What was I thinking?_ Whatever fate had once held in store for him, it had become a moot point as soon as he'd come here. It was time to forge a new destiny for himself.

 

* * *

Back at Vigil's Keep, Anders took Sigrun up to her room for more healing. Megan went off to see Nathaniel. Carver and Thorin headed for the Great Hall where they found Justice seated at the fireplace, staring into the flames. Thorin hesitated a moment before joining the spirit warrior there. Despite the brief time he'd spent here, most of the Wardens had become familiar presences, almost friends. But Justice was still an unknown quantity, something he couldn't make sense of at all. _A spirit possessing a corpse_. How was that even possible without the darkest necromancy? Still, if he was going to stay here, he'd better make an effort to understand.

Justice looked up at them with an expressionless face. Thorin was glad. A smile on those decaying lips would have been much worse.

"You're back early." The spirit stated the fact without emphasis. "Did you encounter any trouble?"

"An ogre. We beat it eventually, but Sigrun was badly wounded and the Commander thought it best to return." Carver reached for a tankard of ale.

"Ah." Justice nodded. "The Commander is wise. And it's good the vile creature is gone."

"So you hate the darkspawn just as much as we do, Justice?" Thorin inquired.

"No." The spirit shook his head. "Hatred is an emotion. I don't have emotions or desires, like your kind. But slaying darkspawn is just and righteous. They deserve death."

"No desires, no emotions?" Thorin found it hard to believe.

"I am a fade spirit, dwarf, not a demon. Just like demons are manifestations of your vices, spirits embody the nobler qualities found in humanity, like faith, hope, compassion, valor, and justice. I am an idea. I am Justice."

Thorin rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. "But why did you choose to inhabit this body?"

Justice hesitated. "It was less of a choice than you think, mortal. But no matter why, I am tied to this body now. And I'm not sure I'd even wish to leave it any more. In this world, I have had experiences I cannot even begin to explain."

 _You and me both, Justice._ Thorin didn't voice the thought aloud, though. "And why did you become a Warden? Is their cause always just?"

The spirit frowned. "Sometimes they choose methods I don't approve of. I prefer the direct approach. But in the end each of us can only be responsible for their own actions, their own judgment. And even if their judgment is sometimes faulty the Wardens' goals are pure, never doubt it."

Thorin nodded. Justice kept asking Carver for more details of their mission, and he withdrew a little, preoccupied with his own thoughts. But in his mind his decision was already clear. When Nathaniel finally showed up in the hall, he got to his feet and made his way up to the Commander's study. Megan bade him enter in a tired voice.

"Commander. I've come to tell you I want to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens. What I saw in that vision... I'm convinced your cause is a worthy one and I wish to devote my life to it." Thorin was aware he sounded formal, but it seemed fitting for such a far-reaching decision.

Megan nodded. "I'm glad you feel that way. However, before you join, there are a number of things you should know." She sighed. "I'll have to ask you to keep the things I'm about to tell you to yourself, no matter how you decide. I didn't know about most of them before I did the ritual, but I've always thought it wasn't fair. I might have decided differently." There was a sad, faraway look in her eyes for an instant, but then she shook herself. "Which of course would have been a bad idea. Anyway, here's the deal."

In a few terse sentences she outlined the consequences of becoming a Warden. The darkspawn taint and all it entailed: a shortened lifespan, nightmares, loss of fertility. Most of it he'd already known or guessed at. Still, he swallowed when she described the end of a Warden's life, the Calling, going down into the Deep Roads all alone to fight the darkspawn to the death. Her voice was firm and steady, though, and in a way this gave him strength. If she could face it, this pretty human girl, if Sigrun could face it, why would he shy away from it?

"Of course there is no guarantee you'll even survive the Joining. About one in three recruits never makes it." Megan's face was uncharacteristically hard, and he wondered how many people she had seen die in the attempt. "Should you fail, your name will be remembered and honoured among us, but you will still be dead."

Thorin nodded. "I am aware of the risk and ready to take it."

Deep down inside he was firmly convinced he wouldn't perish in the ritual. What would have been the point of his miraculous rescue if he died now before he could achieve what he'd come here for? He had no idea whether Gandalf was still watching over him somehow, but he felt safe in the belief that he'd been granted a second chance. It simply couldn't end here.

 

* * *

Sigrun was relieved when Anders finally pronounced her fully cured and gave her permission to head for the bathing chambers. Much as she appreciated his minute attention to anatomical details, given that he was magically rummaging about in her body, she was impatient to wash the blood and grime off, slip on fresh clothes and scrounge a hearty snack from the kitchen staff. Her immediate needs taken care of, she headed back to her room for a little rest. It irked her that she was still a little wobbly on her feet. Still, a good night's sleep and a decent breakfast should take care of that.

When Thorin showed up on her doorstep, her face brightened. Suddenly the evening promised to be a lot more agreeable. But the look on his face as he sat down in an armchair next to her bed made her rethink her enthusiasm almost immediately.

"Sigrun. There's something I need to tell you." His voice, so deep and rich, almost distracted her from what he had to say. "I have asked Megan to accept me into the Grey Wardens. My Joining will be tomorrow, at dawn."

"Your Joining- Thorin, are you mad?" Sigrun couldn't believe her ears. "What on Thedas would possess you to do this voluntarily? Do you have the slightest idea what being a Warden entails?"

"I do, yes." Maker, why did he have to be so infuriatingly calm? "Megan has told me all I need to know."

"And you still want to join the Wardens? Why? To impress me? I can assure you I'm quite impressed with you already. This is madness!" Sigrun knew she was babbling, but his pronouncement had shocked her to the core. "What if you don't survive the ritual?"

Thorin shook his head. "I'm sure I will. I can't explain, but-"

"Well, no, of course you can't!" She was beginning to lose patience. "Of all the-"

"I'm sorry, Sigrun. But I've made my decision." His face wore the stubborn expression she'd begun to recognize, and it was driving her mad.

"So what did you come here for? A mercy fuck? Last chance before you go and throw your life away?" She bit her lips the moment she'd said it, wishing she could take her words back.

He bristled visibly at her crudeness, but he kept his temper. "No. That's not what I came for. And even if it was, you're still too weak and-"

"I'm not too weak!" Sigrun couldn't believe her ears. "Blight it, Thorin, I'm a Warden. Look! I'm fine."

She pulled her shift up without a thought for modesty and pointed to her naked midriff. There was a faint pink scar across her ribcage and a few fading bruises, but apart from that it was as if the horrible injury had never happened.

Thorin reached out and carefully traced the remaining blemishes on her soft white skin, but he shook his head. "Tomorrow, Sigrun. After my Joining I will make love to you until you beg me to stop."

"Not gonna happen." She couldn't quite hold back a grin, but then she grew serious again. "Look, I'm not saying I won't look forward to this, but you might not be around tomorrow, Thorin. Please reconsider. You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do." He got up to leave, but then he hesitated. "Can I stay with you?"

"Of course." She moved over a little so he could join her on the bed.

Tonight she would be the one holding him. And tomorrow- Sigrun closed her eyes to hold back the tears forming there. He had to survive. There was no way she could cope if he didn't.

 

* * *

They assembled in the Keep's chapel at the first light of dawn. Megan had established the tradition of holding their Joinings there. It seemed a fitting place. Almost all the Wardens had turned up to welcome Thorin into their midst. Nathaniel, Anders, Carver, Justice... even Oghren was there, despite the fact that he was obviously struggling with a serious hangover. Sigrun took her place among them, her heart beating so fast that she thought her newly mended ribs might break again.

Megan's face was sombre as she prepared the chalice, adding darkspawn blood to the bluish liquid already swirling inside. They had been lucky with their Joinings so far. Almost everyone had survived. Whether this was a testament to Megan's ability to judge a candidate's suitability or just sheer dumb luck, there was no way of telling.

Thorin stepped forward and accepted the chalice from the Commander's hands. Together the Wardens spoke the traditional words, their voices echoing eerily in the quiet room. "Join us, brother. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Sigrun forced herself not to close her eyes as Thorin lifted the vessel to his lips. His hands didn't shake as he raised it and downed its contents in one go. For a moment he remained standing. His eyes met hers across the distance. Then they rolled up in their sockets and he collapsed without a sound.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sigrun held her breath while Anders examined Thorin's still form. From where she stood, she couldn't detect even the slightest movement of his chest, the faintest hint that he was still breathing.

_Ancestors, no! I can't lose him. I can't!_

The mage took his time, checking carefully for signs of life, but his face was sombre and it took all her innate optimism not to give in to the feeling of dread that spread in her stomach as he bit his lips, tutting and huffing.

Finally Anders got up with a sigh. "There's a pulse. It's very faint, but he will live."

She almost sagged with relief. Looking up, she met Nathaniel's kind gaze. He had been watching her, she realized, no doubt ready to step in if she broke down. For all his broodiness he had a good heart.

Megan let out a long, shaky breath and bent down to pick up the chalice. "Maker, I'm glad. For a moment there I thought-"

"You weren't the only one, Commander!" Oghren's deep rumbling voice filled the room. "Bless my britches, I'd have sworn he was a goner. Now let's get him settled and find ourselves some breakfast."

There was a general mumble of assent and the Wardens drifted out one by one. Nathaniel and Anders helped Sigrun take Thorin to his room. They put him on the bed and the mage ran another quick check-up.

"He'll be fine, Sigrun. He'll probably be out cold at least until the early evening, and then he'll be very hungry. Better find something else to do and return later with a basket of food." Anders stretched to work the kinks out of his back. "There's nothing you can do for him now."

But Sigrun shook her head. She remembered those first few hours after her own Joining, slipping in and out of consciousness, helpless and fearful she would die, the nightmares already tugging at the edges of her mind. Thorin was as strong a warrior as any she had ever known, but no one should have to go through this alone.

Shooing the two of them out, she sent a maid for food, lots of it, and had a quick snack, then crawled under the covers with him, clutching a slim volume of Antivan poetry. If nothing else, her warmth would do him good, help him relax and drive the cold from his stiff arms and legs. It was the least she could do.

 

* * *

At some point during the day she must have fallen asleep. When she woke, it was almost dark and she got up to go to the bathroom and light some candles. On her way back to the bed she grabbed a few spicy sausages and some rolls. Her stomach felt decidedly empty again.

When she drew the curtains aside, he was awake, watching her with his intense blue eyes.

"Sigrun. It's over."

She nodded, unable to keep a bright, idiotic grin from spreading over her face. "It is. And you're alive."

Sigrun half expected him to point out that he'd told her so before, but instead he sighed deeply, a shudder running through his whole body. He closed his eyes and leant back against the bed's headboard. His shirt gaped half open, making him look very vulnerable.

_Vulnerable... and extremely hot._

Unconsciously she licked her lips. "Are you hungry?"

"Like a bear." His eyes opened again and there was a small, tentative smile on his lips. His gaze roved over her body and she wondered briefly what she looked like, tousled and scrunched up from sleeping.

But then he noticed the sausages and inhaled sharply. "By the stone, those smell good."

Sigrun laughed out loud, unable to hold back her merriment. "Don't worry, there's more."

She tossed him a sausage and he easily caught it, biting into it with relish.

Reaching behind her for the basket of food, she heaved it onto the bed, and dug within it for more delicacies. "Look, there's cheese. And some cold beef with mustard, more rolls, a few apples. Oh, and cook made custard pie this morning, see?"

He almost tore the first morsels from her hands, and groaned with delight as he ate heartily. When his first hunger was sated, he sat back, looking more than a little ashamed of his initial greed.

Sigrun laughed and climbed nimbly in his lap, offering him a piece of the pie with a cheeky smile. "Go on. This is your chance. Grab anything you fancy."

The double meaning of her words was completely intentional, of course. She smiled to herself when his breathing hitched and he took a deep bite of pie, his gaze burning hot into hers.

He swallowed the mouthful. "Anything?" Maker, his voice must have dropped another octave. It hit her right in the stomach, or maybe a few inches deeper.

She shivered at the tingling feeling spreading inside of her and raised a shaking finger to brush off a few crumbs stuck in his beard. It was the faintest of touches, but his whole body responded to it. He took another mouthful of the pie, and chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sigrun almost moaned aloud. Her breasts ached with the need to be touched, and her tunic felt rough and heavy on her suddenly oversensitive skin. Maker, he hadn't even touched her! _If he keeps doing this with his looks and voice alone, I'll be useless all day long from now on!_

He smiled, a slow, lazy smile, full of promise, and she gave up all pretence of control.

"Thorin." Her throat was almost too tight to speak. "By all that you hold dear, put that basket away and remember what you promised last night."

He kept smiling, but moved impossibly fast, shoving the food off the bed. He pinned her hard to the mattress, his lips hot on her throat. "Remind me."

The dark, rasp of his voice took her breath away. Feeling him like this, on top of her, warm and strong and taut with barely contained desire, she was almost overwhelmed by the heat racing through her veins.

"You told me..." His hands had found their way under her tunic, pushing up the fabric to bare her to his touch and she had trouble forming a coherent sentence.

"What?" There was a feral gleam in his eyes as he tore off his own shirt and began to tug at her leggings.

Sigrun wriggled out of the tunic and almost cried out when his hands brushed over the thin leather at the inseams of her pants. "... something about making love to me until... Oh, Maker, Thorin!"

"Yes?"

Sigrun rolled her eyes at his smug expression, but his voice was still doing things to her insides, making her melt into his touch.

"Until I beg you to stop." _Enough!_ There was no way she was letting him get away with this! She slipped out of her leggings, losing her smallclothes in the process, and reached for his laces. "Except I won't beg. Never."

Thorin slapped her hands aside with a growl and got rid of the garment himself. Seeing him in all his naked glory sent another rush of heat through her and she swallowed hard. But a quick glance told her he wouldn't be able to hold out on her for long. _Especially not if..._

With a wicked grin she used one of her dirtier combat moves to topple him over, and she knelt down between his outstretched legs. Before he could respond, her lips closed around him, hot and tight. He cursed violently. But he didn't try to stop her when she licked a hot trail all along the length of him. And he didn't protest a little while later, when she straddled him and sank down on him, taking all of him, until he filled her completely.

He let her set the pace, even though the effort it cost him to hold back was obvious from the way the tendons in his neck tautened, hard like cords. His hands were anything but idle, though, finding her breasts and teasing her nipples until even the slightest touch was almost too much. Sigrun felt as if she would die of pleasure as she undulated on top of him, feeling him all the way inside her, working herself against him. She didn't want it to end, but the pleasure was building inexorably inside her, building toward a climax that she knew would be completely overwhelming.

Thorin struggled now, no longer able to keep his hips from moving, adding to the delicious friction between them. She was hanging by a thread when he grabbed her by the neck. He pulled her down into a deep, hungry kiss and thrust up sharply, no longer holding back. She shattered into a million pieces, her cry swallowed by his lips as her body clenched hard around him and pulled him over the edge as well. He spilled deep inside her, pulsed against her, hot and heavy, and then relaxed with a deep groan.

Sigrun expected him to pull back, but instead he gathered her closer, his lips warm and soft on hers, his arms holding her in a tight, secure embrace. She shifted a little until she was comfortable. Dimly she was aware that it was messy and awkward to stay in this position, but she didn't care. It felt so good, his warmth against her belly, their bodies still joined, his beard tickling her breasts. They didn't talk, just lay there, as close as two people could get, their hearts beating in the same rhythm.

She had almost fallen asleep when he stirred inside her again. _Mmmhmmm._ Definite advantages to him being a Warden, now that she thought of it. Sigrun rolled her hips against him, more than ready to join him in another round.

No, she wouldn't beg him to stop. Not any time soon.

Much later, when they were finally both too worn out to contemplate any further activities, Thorin held her again, kissing the top of her head, looking utterly relaxed and at peace. "Thank you, Sigrun."

She tilted her head up to look into his eyes. "What for?"

"For giving me something I never had in my old life." His arm tightened around her shoulder. "There was always a cause worth dying for. But you've given me something worth living for. You. I love you."

For once she couldn't think of a sarcastic reply.

 

* The end *

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a gift for my wonderful friend guylty who was complaining about the lack of Thorin smut...  
> Hugs and thanks to heretherebdragons who agreed to beta it for me and whose suggestions are so very helpful!


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